"Perhaps a heavier hand would be more effective."
Mrs. Lovett lifted the cleaver high and brought it down with a sickening, meaty 'thunk'. Grimacing, she raised it again, and this time the noise was accompanied by a sharp snapping report. Wiping a hand across her face, she turned to look up at her accomplice, his pale, hollowed countenance grinning at her, ghostly from the darkness of the cooking shed. Lovett prodded his arm with the flat top of the cleaver.
"If I wanted your help I'd 'ave asked," she sniffed as condescendingly as she could manage with her curb stone English. Sweeney Todd's vernacular, though slightly more genteel, had a note of exhaustion in it. They were both tired- it had been a long profitable day, which always meant more work for them in the small hours of the night. They were still new at this disposal system, and there were many kinks to be worked out of the process. The partially clothed corpse of a man who until that afternoon had been Edward P. Hops (a maligned tax collector) was flat on his back on Mrs. Lovett's sturdy oak table. His distorted face expressed confusion, while a gaping mouth of a wound split his throat open, grinning morbidly. Mrs. Lovett noticed Todd smile serenely back at the dead body. She found herself smiling too, pleased to know the man wouldn't be missed. She wished, for a fleeting moment, that Todd would turn that smile on her, but quelled that thought as she returned to her work.
The body jolted again as she landed another blow on the man's thick thigh. Still, the bone would not break. As she raised the great square blade for another try, Todd grasped her hand, sliding one arm underneath hers and resting it against the table. Patiently, he directed her hand. Her breath was slightly shallow as he pressed against her ever so slightly. She could feel his heart beat against her back. With a fell swoop, he brought the blade down on former Mr. Hops's leg and sent it through the bone like a knife through warm butter.
"Now, then, what do we say?" His tone was chiding. Sing song, even.
Lovett rolled her eyes. "Much obliged, I'm sure."
Todd allowed himself a small smirk, and retired to the other side of the table as the blood began to seep across its scrubbed surface. Ignoring the red stains on her apron, Mrs. Lovett began to rummage through her cutlery box, searching for the serrated knife. Todd cleared his throat. Lovett looked up, and glowered at him as he tapped the edge of the knife against the cutting board.
"Give that 'ere. You'd best be off if you're going to cause mischief."
"Mischief?" He dead panned innocently, handing the knife over. "Me? I wouldn't dream of such a thing."
"So help me God, I will chase you out," Lovett threatened, brandishing the knife playfully.
Todd slipped around the table and caught her free hand. He brought it gently up to his lips, his unfathomable eyes watching her closely.
"My dear Mrs. Lovett, not even God can help you. Stay where you're better acquainted."
A furrow appeared between her brows. Todd dropped her hand and strolled out. She could hear his heavy footsteps on the stairs. For a moment, she contemplated going after him, but then turned back to the task at hand, muttering under her breath-
"Bloody devil."
Though, she thought appraisingly as she began to carve the flesh off the thigh, he was probably right.